


Snowed In

by biscuits_and_whiskey



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Christmas, Dream Shenanigans, Dreams, F/M, Gentle Kissing, Mild Language, Pining, Snow, Some Humor, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuits_and_whiskey/pseuds/biscuits_and_whiskey
Summary: Set between S2/S3Hardy thinks he's spending Christmas with Tess in a cozy cabin. Things aren't always as they seem.
Relationships: Alec Hardy & Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller, Alec Hardy/Tess Henchard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	Snowed In

The axe cracked against the stump, the wood split in twain, the last for the bundle.

  
Hardy stood upright, wiped the sweat off his brow, and let his gaze lift upward.

Flakes of snow, dry and wispy, fell slowly all around him, dusting the already caked forest with fresh snowfall, bits sticking to his hair and beard.

He sniffed, swung the axe to embed it in the stump, before crouching to collect his hard work.

Mittened hands brushed the quickly collected snow off the wood as he gathered it into his arms.

  
He stood, turned, and started to tromp towards the glow of two windows, light yellow-orange, and the thin plume of smoke.

  
Tess had been right; this was exactly what he needed.

  
It wasn’t until she mentioned something that he realized, no, he hadn’t had a break from the continual onslaught of murder, horrors, and darkest depths of humanity in at least two years.

Likely longer, but the point was made.

She’d finalized the reservation by the next night.

  
A cozy cabin in the mountains, dusted with snow, filled Hardy with a vigor that he hadn’t felt in years.

Even as he trudged through snow that crept to knee height, he didn’t sweat or tire, hadn’t felt the tell-tale thud of arrythmia.

He was, by all measures, renewed.

As he neared the cabin, he even managed a small hop through a thick drift, sending a poof of fresh snow into the air.

  
It was a small, cozy little thing, the type straight off a Christmas card, made of sturdy pine wood with green shingles.

Icicles dangled from the edges of the roof; frost dusted the window’s glass.

A sled was propped by the door.

  
There was the faint scent of cinnamon in the air.

The glow inside reflected against the packed snow a warm yellow, sparkled in the snowflakes.

  
He stepped onto the stoop, kicked the packed snow off his boots as he maneuvered the wood into one arm, the other fiddling with the door handle.

The door clicked open and, with it, out rushed a burst of warm air that soothed Hardy’s body, sore from the woodchopping.

The cinnamon aroma travelled with it as well, far stronger, and Hardy took in a deep breath.

  
It’d been years since Tess made her gingerbread cookies.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed them.

  
He stepped onto the homely mat, embroidered with the words, ‘Cozy Nook’, and brushed the snow from his hair.

“Got more firewood. Should last us the night now.”

He slipped the scarf from his neck, hung it on a wooden coat rack as he kicked off his shoes.

“Smells good in here. Baking cookies?”

  
No answer.

  
He paused; his brows drawn together as he craned to listen.

“Tess?”

  
Nothing.

  
Brows drawn low, he set the kindling on the ground and slipped off his jacket, hanging it before he emerged from the entryway.

To his left was the living room, where the fireplace still burned, though its flames were slowly ebbing.

On the mantle hung three stockings with three names: Alec, Tess, Daisy.

Holly and garland hung around bobbles and other Christmas-y things like glass reindeer and nutcrackers.

A Christmas tree sat in the corner, fully decorated with mementoes and lights that twinkled the full rainbow, glow warm and soothing, topped with an angel.

On the out of fashion, green couch, she sat, back turned to Hardy, brown hair pinned back.

  
He let the tension leave his face as a small smile replaced it.

  
He crept forward, steps barely making a sound, toe heel, toe heel.

He kept at a glacial pace until he was right behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Reading?” He asked, voice muffled by hair.

  
He heard her hum.

“Got lost in thought.”

  
He stilled.

Eyes widened.

Gaze flitted to the hair tickling his nose.

  
It was curly.

  
“You just come back?”

He threw himself backwards.

The hair was brown, but Tess’s had never been so short.

Or so curly.

  
The woman turned and –

“Alright, Hardy?”

  
His face went a strange mixture of pink and gray.

  
Ellie, dressed in a woolly jumper, set aside her mug and stood.

“Hardy? Are you…is it your heart?”

  
Hardy’s mouth parted, but no words appeared.

  
“Sit down. I’ll call an ambulance. Pills are in your left pocket, right -? “

  
“N-Not heart attack. M…m’fine. Just –” Despite this, he teetered against a support, hand gripping at the wood.

  
She frowned.

“You’re not fine. Don’t lie.”

  
“How are…I don’t…you’re _not_ – “

He shook his head cupped in his hands.

“…you’re not supposed to _be_ here. _Why_ are you here.”

  
“News to me. We came here together, remember?”

He felt her hand rest on his arm.

“You feel cold. Are you shivering?”

  
“We _didn’t_. We _didn’t_ come here together.” He insisted. “I came here with Tess. She suggested a holiday, _I_ agreed. I-I… _we_ came here to…to…”

He lifted his head, saw Ellie standing mere inches away.

Her hand still on his arm.

His eyes darted to her hand.

Then to the fireplace.

  
Three stockings with three names: Alec, _Ellie_ , Daisy.

  
“I-I don’t…this isn’t right.”

His gaze snapped back to Ellie.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

  
“Am though. And, well, with the snow, you’re stuck with me until the roads clear.” Ellie sighed as she crossed her arms. “Sorry.”

  
“I – “The color had yet to return to his face.

He knew she was right.

He had, after all, just trudged through the snow.

It still didn’t answer _what_ and _why_.

“You’ve been here since I arrived.”

  
“Yeah. Said that.” She took his hand. “Maybe you need to sit – “

  
“ _No_.” He yanked his hand away. “That’s not right, it’s _not_ right.”

Ellie frowned, posted her hands on her hips.

“Alright, enough with that. If you won’t sit willingly, I’ll _make_ you sit. So, park your arse.”

She jabbed a finger at the couch.

“ _Now_. Then we can talk about this.”

  
Hardy swallowed, mouth gone dry, as he started to move again.

No good arguing.

Ellie was his only source for answers right now and pissing her off was simply counterproductive.

He sat himself down, felt himself sink a little into the cushions.

He held still as Ellie, the frustration slipping off her face, draped a blanket over his lap and sat herself a cushion away.

“This cabin.” His voice dipped quiet. “Where exactly are we?”

  
Ellie’s expression was worried, but nevertheless she answered:

“Switzerland. Went for a holiday in the mountains. We picked the cabin together.”

  
Hardy swallowed.

“Where are the kids?”

  
“Daisy should be in her room.”

  
“And the boys?”

  
Ellie’s lips thinned.

“Suppose…with my sister.”

  
“You suppose?”

His gaze snapped back to her.

Took in the worried, confused look across her face, how furrowed her brows were as he could see her think.

“How…How do you not know?”

  
“I-I don’t know.”

  
He looked back towards the chimney.

There were five stockings hung up.

The look of scrutiny was wiped off his face, the answer clear and, at least, his panic seeping away.

He tucked his arms around himself and sunk against the couch.

“Got it now.” His gaze drifted back to her. “S’a dream, isn’t it? All this?”

  
He watched ‘Ellie’ blink, face crease as her mind whirred, thoughts and emotions passing a mile a minute, before suddenly ceasing.

A final reaction decided, framed with a single movement.

A nod.

  
He sighed.

“Okay. Okay, well…that’s good.” He tented his hands over his nose and mouth. “Know I’m not going crazy.”

He gave a single shoulder shrug.

“Well…not completely crazy.”

  
Ellie smirked, chuckled.

A light sort of chuckle.

  
He wondered if he _had_ heard the real Ellie chuckle or laugh.

…had he?

He couldn’t remember.

A part of him wondered if whatever his mind had conjured was close.

The rest was pondering several other questions now that he knew everything around him was nothing but an illusion, a creation born of unconsciousness.

The cabin, for one.

Tess’s absence, another, the first of the primary.

The second primary, and his last question, centered completely around his ex-detective partner, still sitting across from him, brighter than he’d seen her, at least not since before the Latimer investigation wreaked devastation on every inch of her life.

And, as a supplementary question, why he was _fixed_ on that point in particular.

  
“Bit surprised you’re still here.” She finally spoke, curled against the couch. “You know it’s all a dream. Might be time to wake up?”

  
Hardy started to answer but found himself at a loss for words.

He glanced around, observed the false cabin, looked for signs of a deteriorating dream.

But, surprisingly, despite knowing that everything around him wasn’t real, nothing changed.

  
“Think I’ll try something.”

His eyes darted to the coffee table.

He thought about a cup of fresh coffee.

  
Instantly, one appeared.

  
He picked it up, took a slow sip.

It was fantastic and, best of all, he didn’t feel the sheen of anxiety that usually followed, thanks to his faulty heart.

“Lucid dreaming.” He let a smirk slip past.

  
“Right, you made yourself a cuppa. _Magical_.”

  
“You testing me, Miller?”

  
“Just want to see what you come up with.” She shot her own smirk back.

  
There was rush deep within Hardy, a giddiness he perhaps didn’t know he still had if ever, and his smirk lingered.

  
The front door slammed open, drawing both their attention.

At the stoop, safely tucked into the blustering snow gusts, a snowman dipped his head through the door and waved at them, coal mouth tipped to a smile.

  
“Oh! Well, that’s cute – “

  
Before the words had even left her mouth, the snowman was dashed clean through, smashed to a pile of melting slush by the arrival of one African elephant, trumpeting and despite its size, not breaking through ceiling or floor.

  
“Bloody hell, Hardy!”

  
“You said you were challenging me.” He quipped.

  
“Well, yeah. Suppose I did.” She goggled at the elephant, gasped as Fred waved from its back. “Fred! Get down from there love, that’s dangerous!”

Ellie bolted over the couch, arms outstretched as she tried to corral the multi-ton beast, who only swung its trunk idly as Fred squealed in delight.

“Oi! You give back my son right now!” She scolded.

  
Hardy’s smirk evolved into a full grin as he waved at the elephant, who obliged by gently handing the giggling toddler back to Ellie.

The elephant then turned as politely as it could, waved its trunk as it lumbered through the door, Fred stumbling out of Ellie’s arms to follow as the door shut once more.

  
Ellie sighed, leaning forward with her arms as dead weight.

  
“Did I meet your expectations?” Hardy strode up behind her.

  
Ellie righted herself, turned on her heel, and gave a shrug.

“Suppose.”

  
“You suppose?!”

  
“Could’ve given the elephant wings. Polka dots. Have it make pancakes.”

  
“Oh, pardon _me_ , Miller. Want me to bring them back in?”

  
“No! Uh, no, that’s alright. Next time.”

  
Hardy’s smirk returned, urged Ellie’s to return as well, and soon the two devolved into fits of giggles and laughter.

  
He wondered if ever in his life he’d laughed so much or so hard, his chest starting to hurt from the experience, yet he cared not a bit.

He wiped tears from his eyes, cheeks pink as he took calming breaths.

And, finally, he refocused on Ellie.

  
Who still smiled, but the smile had weakened.

She wasn’t looking at him but rather the fireplace.

He followed her gaze.

In the commotion, one of the stockings had been knocked off its peg and onto the floor.

_Her_ stocking.

  
“I’ll fix it.” He offered.

  
She stopped him, a hand on his arm as she met his gaze again.

“It’s alright.” She lifted her hand away, tucked it under her armpit. “I just realized that, you know, you can make anything happen in the dream.”

She sighed.

“Means I’m not stuck. Don’t _have_ to stay.”

  
Hardy’s smile vanished, his eyes widened as he kept her gaze, the realization settling for him too.

  
“Did say you were on holiday with Tess. I should go.”

  
“I…”

  
“It’s alright. Really.”

  
His lips sealed.

He swallowed a thick swallow.

  
“Unless you want me to stay.”

  
His face went pink.

His hand reached up to scratch at his neck.

“I…”

  
Suddenly, it was near impossible to meet her eyes.

Which was, unequivocally, stupid.

It was just Miller.

Just Miller.

  
“Hardy.”

His eyes flitted up, met hers.

He nodded and stuffed his hands in pockets.

He glanced at the windows.

“Snow should be cleared now.”

  
He thought, for a moment, he saw her face fall.

Yet, she kept her smile.

“Right. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

  
She rocked on her heels, lingered before turning off to the front door, towards the coat rack and drying boots.

  
He followed after her, hands still in his pockets, slowing only as something moved in his peripheral.

He glanced over.

  
Things clattered in the small side kitchen.

A warmth emanated forward; the oven was on.

And Tess was bustling about, working with a bowl of cookie down, scooping spoonfuls onto a baking sheet.

  
“I’ll make myself scarce.” She smirked. “Hope you have a good time with her.”

  
Hardy’s attention snapped back to Ellie.

He met her eyes, his own flitting up and down, as if to scan her.

The words lodged in his throat.

A veritable, verbal traffic jam.

He needed to say something, but he wasn’t sure _what_.

But shouldn’t it be easy?

  
A simple goodbye, a happy holiday?

Two words.

But he couldn’t say it.

  
Ellie stood upright, decked out for the snow, orange anorak clashing awful with a green scarf.

She broke the silence.

“Right. Uh, happy holidays, then?”

She stuck out a hand.

  
It snapped him back to reality, or whatever this qualified as, the remains of what he’d intended to say spilling as eloquent mumbles.

“Y-Yeah.” He finally answered. “Happy holidays. Be safe getting home.”

  
They shook hands.

Ellie reached for the door.

She gave him a small smile.

  
He tried to give one back.

  
She turned the door’s knob and opened it.

  
And in flew a fresh gust of snow, the drifts piled up to the height of her knees.

The lights inside flickered as they worked to shut the door again, the snow threatening to topple across the floor.

The door was shoved shut, warmth returning to the entryway as Ellie shot him a confused look.

“Thought you cleared the snow.”

  
“I-I thought I did.” He admitted as he tried, again, imagined a paved walkway and clear roads.

He cracked the door open.

A mini avalanche spilled a few handfuls of snow onto the mat.

No dice.

He shut the door and groaned.

“Right, okay, sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “ _Shit_.”

  
“Trouble concentrating?”

“No. No, I can…ach, I can _see_ it. But for some reason, I – “

As he stood, rocked onto his heels, he caught a short glimpse of the kitchen, clean and pristine.

Uninhabited.

With a frown, he approached to investigate.

Glanced over the tasteful, modern island.

The smell of cinnamon was gone, the dry rack empty.

There wasn’t a trace of Tess anywhere.

“Tess?” He called.

  
No answer.

  
His gaze snapped back to the coffee table.

His mug still sat there.

His attention returned to Ellie, face growing white.

“I-I don’t understand.”

  
Ellie’s expression, on the other hand, had only softened.

She bit her lip, crossed her arms, and quietly sighed.

“Got an idea. Maybe.”

  
Hardy’s eyes remained wide, searching for the answer.

  
Her gaze dipped away for just a moment, as if she were gathering herself, before it returned to him.

“You don’t actually want me to leave, do you sir?”

  
Hardy blinked.

Shortly afterward, his brow drew low.

“Wh – why do you think I’ve been trying to clear the snow?”

He stiffened, swallowed and swore under his breath.

“Shit, I mean…I didn’t mean it like that. I _didn’t_. I-I…ah, for _fuck’s sake_ …”

  
“It’s fine. Really. I know what you meant.”

  
“I didn’t want it to, ah, sound like I _wanted_ you…I really didn’t.”

  
“I know.”

  
“I’m sorry – “

  
“I _think_ I’ll make us some tea.” Her voice was firm but matched with a thin smile. “Might help us since we’re both stuck.”

With that, she turned away, took what was Tess’s place in the kitchen, fishing a kettle from the cupboards.

  
Hardy lingered by the front door, only following once he heard the rush of the faucet, socks dragging and snagging on the grain of the floorboards.

Wood was replaced by linoleum as he entered the kitchen, a simple thing compared to the cozy opulence of the rest of the cabin.

It had lacy curtains around its one window.

The kettle Ellie had retrieved looked quite old, dated by several decades.

_Have I seen that kettle before?_

Her back was to him as she turned the knob, the stove clicking to life.

  
At some point, a radio must’ve turned on, as a slow, old-fashioned tune filled the air.

Ellie busied herself, fetching two mugs from the cupboard and slipping tea bags into both.

She only turned once, he figured, he’d watched her for a second too long, past casual to maybe awkward.

He was never good at judging those sorts of things.

She turned, the sleeves of her jumper stretched to cover her hands, a few stray strands of hair whipping free of their clips.

  
He felt himself, almost, take a step back.

  
“Sorry, you had coffee already, didn’t you?”

  
He blinked.

“S’fine. Tea sounds better right now.”

  
She nodded and leaned against the counter, hands beneath her armpits, a long sigh dragged from her lips.

  
Hardy joined her, copying her from the adjacent counter.

“Alright?”

  
Her head lifted as she shrugged, strained smile crooked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  
“Why?”

  
“This is your dream. Don’t imagine it’s going how you wanted it to.”

  
“Not sure I had any expectations.”

  
“And” she looked away and shrugged again. “I mean, soon you’ll wake, and I won’t exist. Just part of your subconscious after all. Shouldn’t matter how _I_ feel.”

  
“Don’t start with that.” He groaned. “It _always_ matters how you feel.”

  
She granted a sad smile.

“Just wish I knew, I guess. You were saying how this is wrong and I shouldn’t be here, but the moment I could leave I suddenly can’t. You _say_ you’re trying to help me leave – “

  
“I am. _Was_.”

  
“But?”

  
Hardy’s face fell.

The conviction in his expression melted, lost amidst, well, _a lot_.

Too much to name even if he could.

Which he couldn’t.

Just looking at Ellie right now, he could feel himself stumble internally, unsure of what, which, why, how.

A feeling that was present since he first saw her in this dreamscape, one that had yet to let up.

“I don’t know.”

  
“Do you? Really?”

Her voice was pinpoint.

  
He’d been pink, now started to go red, as he forced himself to keep her gaze, though that was becoming a Herculean challenge by the second.

His damned broken heart was beating in his ears and he _wished_ it would knock it off.

He audibly swallowed.

“Take your time, Hardy.”

  
“I’ve taken enough time.” He spoke without thinking.

  
She blinked, yet her gaze didn’t break.

  
“I-I mean, I’m – “

  
“If you apologize one more time, I will throw the tea at you.”

  
“Don’t make me say it.” He begged.

  
“You’re told all the time to stop being soppy, aren’t you?” She responded steadily. “Well, here, I’m giving you full permission. Use it wisely.”

  
  


  
He blinked back.

  
The tension thickened in the space between them, taut like piano wire.

  
He wondered if she could see him sweat.

  
“It’s okay, Hardy.” Her voice went soft.

  
His heart was like a drum in his ears.

  
“Please.”

  
He took a breath.

Swallowed.

And stepped forward.

  
Stepped.

Crossed the bridge.

And there he was, in her space, a ghost of a distance between them.

  
The tension grew only more, and she took his hand, her fingers curling with his.

  
His other hand snaked up her back.

  
Hers rose to cup the back of his head.

  
He wondered if she could hear her heartbeat.

Wondered if she wondered the same thing.

  
The air buzzed.

  
The hand at his head slipped to the side, cupped at his scruffy jaw, her thumb rubbing against the stubble.

Pulled him down.

  
He let himself be led.

Let his eyes fall closed.

  
His lips met hers.

Hers tasted slightly of chamomile, of sugar and cinnamon.

His hand left hers to wrap around her lower back.

  
Hers rose to grip his shoulder, the two drawing even closer together, almost intertwined.

  
The scent of her body wash filled his nose, artificial flowers and fruit, yet it was the best scent in the world right then.

  
They only parted once the lightest dizziness started to set in, the need to breathe finally breaking through.

  
She stared up at him, a little dazed yet her eyes shimmered, a chuckle slipping past.

“Who knew?” She smirked. “My old boss would be great at snogging.”

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” He smiled.

  
She gasped.

“Was that compliment? From Detective Inspector Hardy? To _me_? I am shocked.”

  
“Oi, come on. It’s not the first.”

  
“No, it isn’t.”

She traced at his neckline.

As the seconds passed, her smile remained, though changed.

“You really didn’t want me to leave then.”

Hardy’s own smile wavered.

“…suppose I didn’t.”

  
She looked up.

“Bit surprised you didn’t know.”

  
His smile continued to slip away.

“Don’t think I was wanting to know.”

  
She cocked her head to the side.

  
Face fallen, Hardy unhooked his arms from around her, stepped back to give her a respectful amount of space.

  
“Why don’t you tell her?”

  
He chuckled, face turned away, lips thinned.

“I really did want to make it work.”

He glanced back over.

“With Tess. I did mean it. I wanted to…to fix the shit I left behind.”

He gestured.

“For Daisy’s sake. She deserves to have a mum _and_ dad. I’m the one who left.”

His eyes closed.

“She said, almost four years ago, I wasn’t home enough. I thought I had it solved. I gave her my _everything_. No job, nothing to stop me from being a devoted dad, a devoted partner to Tess. Things _should’ve_ gone back to normal, no, gotten _better_.”

The start of a tear formed at the corner of his eye.

  
“Did they?”

  
He sighed.

  
“Do you love her still?”

  
“Of course.”

  
“Does she love you?”

  
“Does it matter?”

  
He felt the Ellie level a glare at him.

  
He gave a pleading look at the Ellie.

“I just wanted our family together again.”

  
“You might need to accept that that isn’t possible.” Ellie said in soft voice, eyes with sympathy. “Not with Tess.”

  
Hardy’s eyes, watering, finally held onto Ellie, but he didn’t respond or acknowledge her words.

A long pause held.

The kettle never whistled; the stove seemingly having turned off on its own.

“Will you tell her then? Miller?”

  
Hardy shook his head.

“Wouldn’t be right.” His gaze sat on the floor. “Haven’t been part of her life for two years.”

  
“Not for lack of trying on _her_ part.”

  
“I – “He flinched and sighed. “– I know.”

He shook his head.

“I won’t – I _refuse_ to just pop up out of the blue and throw that on her. She deserves better and I won’t make her life more complicated than it needs to be.”

He held a heavy gaze.

“Already did a wonderful job at that.”

  
“What Joe did wasn’t your fault.”

  
“I know.”

  
“But you’re talking about it like it _is_.”

  
“It’s – It’s not that simple.”

He shook his head fervently.

“I’m not sure she’s ready. I’m not sure if _I’m_ ready.”

  
At that, Ellie’s expression softened.

“Whatever you choose, Hardy, in the end, don’t choose something you’ll regret later on.”

  
“If I tell her too soon – “

  
“If you tell her too late – “

  
“Please, _Ellie_.”

  
“I just don’t want you… _us_ , to be unhappy. Again.” The dream Ellie’s eyes melted.

  
Hardy held her gaze, lips drawn thin, own eyes watering as he gave a shallow nod.

“I don’t want you to be unhappy again either.”

The stricken look on this false Ellie’s face broke a part of him, but he knew that he couldn’t let it haunt him.

This was, after all, not the _real_ Ellie.

As wonderful as that moment in the kitchen was, how easy it all was, he couldn’t assume that would reflect real life.

In fact, he _knew_ it wasn’t close.

It was indulgent, a reflection of something he realized that, yes, he wanted.

But he also knew that, sometimes, it was best to leave things well enough alone.

As much as it pained him, he tore his gaze away from the Ellie standing near him.   
  


The lights around them flickered, abruptly went black, the kitchen floating in a dark void.

The floor faded beneath him, but he didn’t fall.

He soon couldn’t feel Ellie’s presence.

Then everything went black.

And for a brief moment, he felt nothing.

  
\--

His eyes shot open, taking in a ceiling illuminated only by whatever moonlight was outside.

  
He stared, laid on his back, blanket only partially draped over his body,

He glanced over to his right.

  
Tess laid away, curled with her back to him, a sizeable gap between them.

He hadn’t realized, until then, how large the gap was.

  
He took it in, swallowed something that grew in his throat, and sighed.

Slowly, he turned away, shielded the glow of his mobile.

Tapped on his recent messages.

  
There was multiple, all listened to but unanswered, from Miller.

All short.

Inquiries about life, how things were going.

Updates from Broadchurch.

Every now and then, a remark about whether she was messaging the wrong number.

The last one was from months ago.

  
He pondered a response, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

He really should say something, he owed her that at least.

Radio silence for two years…he was lucky she still wanted to speak with him.

He needed to say something, _anything_.

Even a hello.

  
…

Eventually, he closed the app, having not typed a single word.

  
He set his mobile aside and curled back into his share of the blankets, eyes fixed on the distant wall.

  
Perhaps the words would come to him tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write smthg good and fluffy for xmas
> 
> instead i got sad stuff that's meh lol
> 
> either way, merry crismis everyone + stay safe


End file.
